Sleep
by gf7
Summary: Post 2x11 Disorder: In the aftermath of Kensi's head injury, Deeks doesn't want her to be alone. Non-romantic.


**Author's Note: Hey all, this is just a quick post 2X11 piece that I scrambled together (even if I have only had a chance to watch the ep just once so far). There was just too much good in that ep and I had to follow up. It's a bit sappy and emotional and such and there's no real plot, but I think it serves as an acceptable coda. It's not a romantic piece so much as a further delving into the deepening relationship of Kensi and Deeks. Hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear any and all thoughts.**

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She doesn't realize what he's up to until it's close to midnight.

It's been a terribly long day for her, full of emotion and pain – both physical and mental.

If she thinks about it, she can remember waking up at around seven or so. It'd been somewhat overcast outside, but then, that's just a typical Los Angeles morning. She'd pushed herself up, showered and gotten ready for work.

A quick stop by Starbucks and then into the office.

Christmas Eve.

She'd spent most of the drive in coming up with her lie for the year and after considering and dismissing several options, a glance down at her coffee cup had given her the idea to tell everyone that she was going to visit family in Seattle.

It had almost worked.

Except for freaking Deeks.

Callen and Sam had accepted her lie without question, but then they always did.

Only Deeks had pressed. And pressed. And pressed.

She'd actually been relieved for the case, if for no other reason than to shut him up for a few minutes.

If only that ever worked.

Then of course, the case had gotten too close.

Over the years, she's spent so much time trying to not think about Jack. After six years and so much life lived, she's gotten better at it. Not quite good, but better.

She was just twenty-one then, a young woman with a strong stubborn streak and a need to protect what few things belonged to her.

As far as she is concerned, she failed Jack.

And that need to protect has only gotten stronger and more compulsive and in many ways, self-destructive.

She'd told herself that she wouldn't fail Talbot. No matter what the personal consequences might be.

Turned out Talbot didn't need anyone protecting him after all.

Little sociopathic bastard had played her for the fool.

She feels kind of like an idiot for missing the signs.

She knows a little bit about human behavior after all of these years of dealing with some of the worst of it. She knows when something feels weird and wrong and if she's completely honest with herself, Talbot felt wrong from moment one.

But then there was Jack.

Sweet, beautiful, strong Jack. The handsome Marine with the broad shoulders, the big hands and the loud laugh.

And then suddenly, after six years of trying so very desperately to forget everything about him (and being somewhat moderately successful), she couldn't get Jack or his stupid impish grin out of her head. Or her heart.

It's corny, it's cheesy and yet she's completely a victim to it.

Which is, of course, why Marty Deeks is doing what he's doing right now.

Her watch reads thirty-five minutes to midnight, just about Christmas morning, when she realizes that he hasn't left alone for more than five minutes since they'd left the Santa Monica Pier at just before seven in the evening.

In fact, she realizes, the only time that she's been out of his sight has been when she's used the bathroom.

Nice of him to give her that space, she muses.

They're in the kitchen now, just about done with washing all of the dishes. It's been a long night of serving dinner and generally trying to bring as much Christmas spirit to as many people as possible. It's been a good time and she's genuinely glad that Deeks brought her along, but she's also not blind to his apparent ulterior motive.

"Man, I am whooped," he says, turning to face her. He dries off his hands with a paper towel and then shoots it into a nearby trashcan. It goes in and he raises his hands triumphantly.

"Me, too," she says. And then, experimentally, "I think it's time to head home and crash out for like, the next fifteen hours."

He ignores the joke and instead nods. "Yeah, good idea. I'll drive you."

She shakes her head.

"What?" he asks, almost pulling off the whole innocent act. "You shouldn't be driving with you know, your head thing."

"Uh huh. Okay, which one?" she demands.

"What?"

"Which one told you to stay with me and watch me tonight? And not let me out of your sight? Callen or Sam? Or was it Hetty?"

"Neither. I mean none of them," he insists. "I just figured since you had nowhere to be tonight, you might enjoy doing this. Was I wrong?"

"No…no," she answers quickly. After a moment, though, she realizes what he's doing again – putting her on the defensive, distracting her from the truth. "No," she says more firmly. "I enjoyed myself, but I also know that you're watching me. In fact, you've been doing it all night; I just didn't realize it until now."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he tells her and she thinks that it's amazing that he's as good as he is at his job because he's a terrible liar.

"Sure," she says. "So when I thought that maybe you were watching me every time I walked in and out of a room, that was just my imagination, right?"

He sighs, completely caught and far too tired to pretend otherwise.

"Yeah, didn't think so. Who?"

"None of them," he says again. "This was all me."

"Really?" she asks with some surprise. "Why?"

"You're my partner, do I need any other excuse?"

For a moment, the sincerity in his tone is enough to convince her, but then there's that little voice that wants to know more – needs to know more. It makes her push when others would settle for the answer given. "Yes, " she says.

She sees his stormy blue eyes flicker upwards, towards the massive bruise on her forehead. In the last five hours, it's changed colors dramatically, taking on shades of green and blue. When she does her best not to think about it, it's just a sharp pulsating pain behind her eyes, but when she remembers that it's there, it seems to become a massive hammering that echoes through her skull.

Still, she tells him quietly, her voice almost a whisper, "I'm fine, Deeks."

"I know that," he says.

"So?"

He thinks about his response for a moment and it seems to her that he's fighting with himself, trying to decide just how much he wants to admit. In the end, he says simply, "You're my partner, Kensi, and that means that it's my job to cover your back."

"You've been doing a lot of that lately," she notes. "Between saving me from the Russians and saving me from Talbot."

He smiles thinly and she thinks she sees some kind of emotion lurking back behind his turbulent eyes.

"Deeks?" she presses.

Instead of replying to her prompt, he glances down at his watch. "Hey, twenty minutes to Christmas." He looks up at her and she realizes that he has no plans to reveal what he's thinking – or what's quite clearly bothering him.

She nods. "Okay, so drive me home."

He grins. It's impish and bright.

God if it doesn't reminds her of Jack.

* * *

The trip to her apartment takes only ten minutes, which gives them still a few minutes until midnight – and Christmas morning. He walks her up to the door and then, when they're both just standing outside of her front door, he says, "Aren't you going to invite me?"

She eyes him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Come on, partner, it's almost Christmas morning, are you really going to send me away now?" He gives her his best puppy dog look. Actually, it looks more like a mutt who has been left out in the pouring rain, but it serves it's purpose.

She laughs.

"Really?" he says. "You're laughing. Really…"

"All right, all right, come in." She holds the door open and offers him entrance.

"So," he says as he steps inside. "Beer and ice cream? Was that for real?"

"Yes," she replies, shutting and locking the door behind him. "I have a new carton of Rocky Road in the freezer and a six pack of Sam Adams in the fridge. That was going to be my dinner tonight. And if you make another crack about me being not classy…"

He holds up his hands. "Not a word," he promises.

"Sure," she says, clearly not believing him. "Anyway, that was my plan before I decided to trust a complete sociopath and ended up nearly getting my skull caved in with a frying pan," she finishes dryly.

"All in a days work," he quips, trying to keep it light.

"Something like that."

"So, is it a beer float?"

"No," she laughs. "That would be weird."

"Right, that's the weird part about beer and ice cream for Christmas Eve dinner."

"Hey, I don't mean to point out the obvious, but your family isn't exactly a shining example of sanity and normalcy Mr. My Uncles Pees In The Toaster," she shoots back as she makes her way to the kitchen.

"Touché," he admits. She hears his footsteps behind her, but ignores him and makes her way over to one of the cupboards. She opens it and pulls out a shoebox that has several pill bottles in it. "Headache?" he asks and suddenly he's very close to her, standing just behind her.

"Slight one," she lies. In truth, the pounding in her head has been getting worse and worse ever since the left the food kitchen.

"I bet," he says. He offers her a glass of tap water.

She takes it, pops three aspirin and then looks at him, their eyes meeting. "Is that really why you're here? Because of my head injury?"

"You should have gone to the hospital," he tells her, his hand for a moment lifting as if to touch the wound. He stops short, his fingers still slightly twitching. "You know, let a doctor check you out."

"I'm fine. You saw me…I was able to run. I was able to shoot straight."

"Yeah, but you're something special," he says and his voice catches just a bit.

"Deeks…" She has no idea what she wants to say, but suddenly she's overcome with the need to say something to him - to let him know him know how much she appreciates him and all that he's done for her.

He doesn't give her the chance.

"Look," he says, stepping away from her. For a moment, he says nothing, just paces her kitchen. And then, "Look, you and me, me and you, I think we're finally making this whole partnership thing actually work and you know that's not easy. Neither one of us is much for trusting people or partners or whatever so I think it's something worth protecting, what we have I mean. You know?"

"Hey, Deeks…"

"I'm babbling, I know."

"No," she says. "I mean you are babbling, but just…just look at the clock. Look."

He turns and looks at the clock above her microwave. "Christmas morning."

"Yeah."

He turns back towards her.

"You keep staring at me," she notes.

"I'm just making sure you're okay."

"Deeks, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Okay, okay, fine, but you don't get to call me a Nancy or whatever if I tell you."

"I won't," she promises, taking a slight step towards him.

"In the last two weeks, you've nearly died twice and both times, it's been my fault."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"With the Russians, I never should have let them take you. Today, I never should have left you alone with Talbot."

"Deeks, do I look like some kind of damsel in distress?" she asks and there's an edge of irritation and maybe ego in her voice. "Do I look like someone who needs to hide behind a man and let them act as my shield?"

"No!" he says quickly. "That's…that's not what I meant. Kensi, you're the one who is more likely to save me nine times of out ten and that's me stowing my ego, but I can deal with it, okay? What I can't deal with is letting you down. You're my partner…I need to be there for you."

She reaches out and takes his hand. "And you have been. You came to my rescue with the Russians. If you hadn't, I'd have died in that room when my legs finally went out from under me and today...Deeks, Talbot took my gun from me. The only reason he didn't shoot me with it was because you showed up and scared him away. He could have killed me easily. Truth is, he probably was about to."

It's weird and strange for her to say these words out loud. It sends a cold shock through her to realize just how close she was to death. And not just once.

It's been a really strange couple of weeks.

"Okay?" she presses, needing him to understand what she's saying.

He nods slowly, but he looks like his mind is a thousand miles away. Maybe thinking about just how very close she was to death.

"We good?" she asks.

"Yeah, we're good," he assures her.

"Then go home."

"I'd really rather not," he says. "I mean, if it's just the same to you."

"I'm fine," she insists again.

"And I believe you, but I'd be a lot happier if I could stay here tonight and maybe make sure that come morning, you're still okay."

"Is this about to get weird?" she jokes.

"No," he says quickly. "We can watch movies or eat ice cream or…"

"Do a girls night out?" she teases.

"See," he sighs. "I'm trying to be nice and sweet and make sure that you don't die from a head injury over night and you're being mean." He pretends to pout.

"I'm sorry," she laughs.

"You're totally about to call me a Nancy aren't you?"

"No," she promises. "I'm not. And if it makes you feel better, you can stay. I can't promise we'll be able to find anything worth watching besides a Christmas Story on, but there's plenty of beer and ice cream."

"Sounds like a plan," he says. He doesn't bother to tell her that he has no intention of letting her drink alcohol, not until he's sure that her concussion isn't something that could cause problems. He's pretty sure she already knows.

"Well then if you don't mind, I'm going to grab a quick shower," she says.

"Not at all. I'll serve up the ice cream."

* * *

It's about four in the morning when he realizes that she's dozing against him. The TV is playing some old black and white Christmas movie. On the table in front of them are two empty bowls with the remains of melted ice cream in them.

"Kensi," he whispers, not for the first time. In fact, much to her annoyance, he's been checking on her every fifteen minutes.

"Mm," she answers, not opening her eyes. He looks up at the bruise on her forehead – it appears to have taken on all the colors of the rainbow now.

"You okay?"

"Shut up, Deeks," she grumbles.

"Sorry."

"Mm."

"Kensi?"

"Mm."

"Merry Christmas," he tells her, realizing that he hadn't said it yet.

She opens her eyes. They're slightly bloodshot and tired, but aware. She looks up at him for a moment, as if gauging him. And then, with a soft smile, "Merry Christmas, Deeks, you Nancy."

There's clear affection in her tone, no matter the words. She settles back against him, her head against his chest.

They both know that he'll check on her again, probably within fifteen minutes or so. Until then, she's content to rest right where she is.

And he's content to just watch her and keep an eye on her.

She doesn't need him; in many ways, she's an army of one. It's not like he needs her either; he's done just fine on his own for a long time.

Just the same, he's glad he's where he is.

Right now, right here.

"Deeks?"

"Hm?" he replies, mimicking her previous mumbled responses. It doesn't go unnoticed by his sleepy partner.

"Hysterical," she deadpans.

"I thought so."

"Don't think," she tells him. "Not your strong suit."

"Thanks, partner."

"Anytime." And this time, there's also sincerity in her voice.

He's not sure if she's thanking him or he's thanking her. He supposes it's all the same. They share a smile and then she closes her eyes again.

His eyes don't close until sometime after seven in the morning, when he's sure that she's all right.

That's when he finally allows himself to sleep. That's when they both do.

**-FIN.**


End file.
